


All the I Love You's

by Relvich



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, But also, Fluff, M/M, Self-Hatred, and, and fluff, it's also fluffy kinda I promise, okay so, whoops, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:12:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvich/pseuds/Relvich
Summary: Prince finds out that Anxiety thinks he's undeserving of love, and well, he's not having any of that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to @shadow-desu, who will scream about prinxiety with me whenever

Being of the same consciousness as three other people (more, really, but who’s counting?) could honestly be trying. Especially when they could feel each other’s emotions.

Sure, they tuned it out most times, because hello, _privacy,_ and besides. It wasn’t like they could feel it very well; it was a fuzzy impression in the back of their heads. They couldn't read each other’s thoughts or anything. However, it was still irritating.

That changed, though, once Prince and Anxiety started… dating? (could they call it that?) At least, for the two of them.

Their connection grew and grew as they got closer and closer. It stopped being an annoyance and became kind of comforting, really: Anxiety, for instance, had a place he could go to within his head that wasn’t solely his own whenever his mind was working against him, Prince had a place to travel to in his mind when he was feeling particularly lonely on the job. They even kept the link open sometimes just for the heck of it, because hey, they liked each other, liked spending time together, and this was just another way.

But there were times. Times where Anxiety locked it up, slammed the door and slammed it _hard._ Prince didn’t ask many questions about it, everyone needed alone time, especially people with anxiety.

But one day. _One day._

The Prince felt It. Well, he felt Anxiety feel It. Not the usual anxious blood-rush, not the usual claws latched and strangling the pessimistic trait’s chest, not the usual fight-or-flight instinct.

No. It was _worse._ Strong enough to force Its way through Anxiety’s masterful lockdown of their bond.

 It was ‘It’, capital ‘I’ ‘t’, an ugly thing Anxiety had been hiding for _ages_. Since his creation, probably. He couldn’t remember anymore. It was  horrid, and dark as pitch, foggy, confusing, turbulent.

And god, so sharp. It was like the broken shards of his shattered glass mind burrowing deep into his skull.

If It had to be given a name, then ‘self-hatred’ would probably fit best.

_unworthy_

_undeserving_

_i’m a monster_

_a disease_

_no wonder everyone hates me_

_unworthy, unworthy,_ unworthy—

_unlovable._

“No—” Prince, face pale as the dead, eyes wider than the Grand Canyon, _sprinted_ from his room in the direction the mind-poison was coming from: lord, it was happening in the commons, of all places, Morality was even sitting just a few feet from his precious Anxiety, completely oblivious to the black hole that had begun to suck him in and eat him alive.

 _“Anxiety.”_  The trait jumped, and as soon as he saw the Prince, he _knew_ that he knew. That he had heard. The Royal’s eyes conveyed everything: bottomless and full of worry, a peculiar emotion, really ~~especially when wasted on someone like him~~ , and awash with question. Or maybe it was his whole self that broadcasted it; he was short of breath, and leaning slightly towards Anx’s side, hand twitching from the desire to do something, _anything_ to help.

But the enemy wasn’t physical, not this time. It was in his head, and wasn’t that even more terrifying?

_No one can save you—_

“What is—?”

‘It’ grew even darker, at that moment, and he was _drowning_ in it, because. Because he knew, and _god,_ how could anyone want a broken mess like him, and now he was gonna be alone, he hated being alone, he couldn’t _stand it—_

 “It’s nothing, Princey. Don’t you even worry your pretty little head about it.”

He tried to mask it, blow it off, and he had already rebuilt the wall between them, but his tone _just_ hinted at the shadow that everyone knew resided within him, and echoed with the cold, hard, fact that _this_ was not _nothing,_ it was _everything._

So Prince does not heed the verbal caution tape, the danger warnings. Instead, he grabs at his Dark Prince’s wrist, pulls him out of the commons.

 He dashes down the halls, not stopping ‘til he reached one of their rooms, he doesn’t care which, at this point; and he crashes through the door, slamming it behind him. He sat Anx down on the bed.

“Prince, I’m fine, really—” his eyes were downcast, and he wouldn’t look the royal in the eye, and the lighter mindset’s heart was _breaking—_

Prince had to swallow the urge to sob, because Anxiety didn’t need that from him today, he needed to be strong, needed to ease his agony, not add to it.

“No, no. Stop. Just, please.” And for a moment Anx was so sure, _so sure_ that _this_ when he breaks it off, when he says ‘the night might chase the day but it’ll never _get it,_ just like you can never have _me’,_ or something equally poetic and weaponized.

But it’s not, and he doesn’t say any of those things. Instead, he slumps to the ground and kneels before Anxiety, clasping their hands together. He hung his head for a second.

“I love you on your good days.” The whispered words tumble out of him like the first prophetic drops of a storm, and once they were out, he felt the floodgates crack open, and knew that the whole hurricane was coming, and coming quick. He pressed his lips to the back of Anxiety’s left hand to hold it all back for just a second more, and okay, the darker trait had gone completely still now. He took a breath, and he continued.

“I love you on the _worst_ days.” A kiss to his right hand.

“I love you when you’re laughing.” His nose, he had to reach up for that one (but not much, Anx’s slouch was extreme);

“I love you when you feel like you can’t even open your eyes for the pain of it all.” Right temple.

“I love you when you think you’re being a bother.” Left.

“I love you when you’re protecting Thomas.” A feather-light touch on his quivering lips.

“I love you when you’re in an attack.” His forehead.

Somewhere along the line, Anxiety had begun to tremble like a leaf, and to fight back the water clawing its way up his throat to his eyes, because each little phrase was pulling him farther and farther out of the pit, and between the peppered kisses and declarations of love, he was beginning to feel _wanted,_ almost like he belonged with the royal mindset in front of him, and that was just as overwhelming as the _other_ thing, holy shit.

And through all of this, Prince hadn’t stopped or faltered once, no, he had built up a rhythm and it seemed like he didn’t even have to think about the syllables falling from his lips, and Anxiety doesn’t know why, but that made it seem better somehow. Maybe it was because Prince meant every little thing he was saying, or maybe it was because he didn’t even have to ponder what to say next, it was almost like he already had this huge pre-made list in his head of the all the times he loved Anxiety.

He didn’t, of course. He just loved Anxiety whenever, because he was in love with him.

 _Holy_ —

Prince _loved him._

“Yes, that _was_ what I was getting at…” Anxiety had apparently spoken aloud, and Prince let out a breathy chuckle, relief coloring his every feature.

And _that_ was when Anx finally burst into tears, having hit his emotional breaking point for the day, or perhaps for forever; and he clutched at the front of Prince’s shirt, hiding his face from the whole world, except maybe the boy who loved him.

Prince shot up from his position on the floor, careful not to jostle Anx too much, moving him so that the two were holding each other like a lifeline somewhere vaguely in the corner of the bed.

“Anxiety? Anxiety, did I do something wrong, I’m sorry baby, I don’t know—”

 _“I never thought—_ I never thought that,” he took a break to gasp for air, “that someone like you, _anyone_ could genuinely _like_ me, as a friend even, and here you are,” his voice was wracked with sobs, “saying that you _love me_ and I—”

“Shh, breathe baby, of course I love you, of _course.”_ Prince ran his hand through the other’s hair, rubbed soothing circles on his back.

And for a while they stay like that, long enough for Anx’s tears to turn into choked (but even) breaths and the worst case of the hiccups he’s ever seen. But he’s calmer, and he’s more aware of the Prince holding him securely to his chest.

And suddenly, the thing that gasps and excitement were made of rose in his throat: fear and anticipation in equal mix. It spread from there to his heart and then to his scalp, making him somewhat light-headed, and this was a bad idea, but by god, he was going to do it.

“I think I love you too.” The Prince stiffened for a second, but went back to his calming ministrations.

And if his eyes were wet, well, no one had to know; and even if they did, Prince could care less, because this beautiful trait, the one with the trust issues, and the anxiety (social and otherwise), and the _fear_ just maybe admitted that he loved him. And that was enough, that was more than enough, it was amazing.

“I’m glad.”

Together they drifted to their dreams in peace.

*

Anxiety woke up incredibly early the next morning to his eyeliner running like there was some sort of marathon going, and his shadow caked in like nobody’s business. Usually, all of this would be a sign of a bad start to a bad morning, but not today. Nope.

Today he woke up in the arms of a disheveled Prince, hair ruffled and sash blackened with eye makeup. He grinned, because what a sight to wake up to, he was so goddamn _lucky—_

_Shit. He was totally in love._

And something delicate as lace, strong as steel, beautiful as snow, it gripped at his heart then, and he was afraid. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him, not from this, not anymore.

“I love you.” He sighed, and his heart skipped a beat or two there, but nothing he couldn’t handle, and it was all just fine, really. Freeing, even. 

Until Prince’s eyes snapped open and he panicked. He jumped, scrambled to gain some distance.

“Oh god, I’m sorry I’ll just leave okay um just—” Prince’s hand shot out to grasp Anxiety’s wrist.

“Anx baby I spent so much time trying to drill the fact that _I love you_ into your head yesterday, how on _earth_ have you already forgotten?” the lighter trait’s eyes were watering, so much so that the tears were dripping onto the pillowcase, but he was smiling so brightly it was like staring at the sun. Because these were happy tears, tears of joy even.

Anxiety let out an incredulous and relieved sort of laugh, but it was more like a sob in disguise, and then he’s smiling too, wider than Prince had ever seen him. He flops back into the bed, already too emotionally exhausted to try anything more graceful. The royal gently situates him into a better angle for the cuddles he so desperately needed right now, and pressed a kiss to the top of Anxiety’s head.

“I love you too. So, so much.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I finally get that.”

They sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> it's like 1am pls don't crucify me if this is bad  
> I'll edit tomorrow I promise  
> also i'm sorry for this  
> Somewhere, Shadow-Babe is screaming at me  
> hope you enjoyed,  
> Rel ouuuuuut


End file.
